Did we agree to stop calling them gastropubs? Very well, they're no longer gastropubs. But what then do you call the small, food-serving ale joints around town, differing from one another less in intent than in degree of devotion to the hops-lover's cause? The Six, a not-quite-new pub in a storefront between the Westside Pavilion and the top-secret Yakitori bar, is a useful restaurant, open both late after the movies and early for Sunday brunch, friendly to the Bugaboo set, and with soundless TV screens perpetually tuned to TMC. Is it a loud room? Yes, unless you spend your evenings listening to Cannibal Corpse. Is it pleasant? Indeed, if you require great ingredients but not great ambition in your cuisine.
The restaurant's conceit is that it offers exactly six choices in most of the categories that probably matter to you - six red wines, six white wines, six small plates, six pizzas and six entrees, among other things. And while the Israeli-Palestinian conflict may well be solved by the time your food actually gets to the table, once it arrives you will generally be pleased if not surprised with the rare burger with blue cheese and a towering brioche bun, the sweet-potato fries and the simply prepared farmers market produce; with wood-roasted shrimp, mac 'n' cheese and spicy skirt steak; and with the small - six bottles, natch - but well-chosen list of unusual craft beers on tap.

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Did we agree to stop calling them gastropubs? Very well, they're no longer gastropubs. But what then do you call the small, food-serving ale joints around town, differing from one another less in intent than in degree of devotion to...

Did we agree to stop calling them gastropubs? Very well, they're no longer gastropubs. But what then do you call the small, food-serving ale joints around town, differing from one another less in intent than in degree of devotion to...